


you don't work here anymore

by mindyfication



Series: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Incest, Angst, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindyfication/pseuds/mindyfication
Summary: “I need to see you in my office, now.”Such a simple sentence had somehow led to Sam bent over Dean Smith’s desk, pants around his ankles, getting fucked harder than he’s ever been.





	you don't work here anymore

**Author's Note:**

> combining track nine: cubicles ([for added angst points listening after reading is advised](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRmjtiXQ9wI)) with my kink bingo square: office sex

“I need to see you in my office, now.”

Such a simple sentence had somehow led to Sam bent over Dean Smith’s desk, pants around his ankles, getting fucked harder than he’s ever been. Dean thrusts steadily, slow and heavy into him, and Sam groans loud, fingers grasping the desk’s sharp edge. Dean has a hand on the small of his back, holding him down, the firm pressure more real than any of his recent memories. For once it doesn’t feel like he’s playing an ill-fitting part, it feels like destiny. Which sounds utterly ridiculous, like a line from one of those softcore stories Ruby used to read to him. (And how strange was it that thoughts of his ex-girlfriend don’t feel more solid?) Dean suddenly slams into his prostate, making him clench and moan far too loudly for where they are, reality rushing back in.

“Fucking made for my cock health club,” Dean growls, slapping his ass. 

“Shut up and go faster,” Sam snaps back. While the location was sexy at first blush, the immediacy of it, the desk is uncomfortably cutting into his hips, is going to make for some awkward bruises.

“Demanding little bitch,” Dean murmurs, but he does go faster at least. His hand is suddenly squeezing under him, is tight on Sam’s cock and he comes embarrassingly quick. Most of him doesn’t care about that though, he feels so damn good- can’t remember the last time he felt so sated. 

Dean lets out a little smug huff, is probably about to make some smart ass comment when Mr. Adler comes in. Sam freezes in horror, and Dean- Dean fucking orgasms at their discovery, wet heat filling him with a fresh wave of arousal. Oh god, he’s _never_ going to be able to meet Adler’s eyes again. Not that he’s going to have the chance, there’s no way he’s gonna have a job after this. He’ll probably be blacklisted, will have to start in a whole new industry. (He didn’t like tech support, but fuck his rent was due in a week.)

“Knocking man-” Dean begins as if he isn’t still balls deep inside of Sam. The boss cuts him off, snapping his fingers.

“You _damn_ Winchesters ruin everything. I can’t even teach you two chuckleheads a lesson so you _don’t ruin everything_ without you two corrupting it with your incest. I give up! Your pet angel can deal with this mess and whipping you into shape.” 

Adler leaves, slamming the door and Sam’s memory comes back sickeningly fast. 

“Dude get your cock out of my ass,” Sam says. 

Dean slips out of him- and holy fuck, he is _so_ going to hell. He feels empty, already wants it back inside. He knows his brother intimately and is still turned on, could go for another round. He pulls his pants back up hastily, feels Dean’s semen dripping out of him slow, dampening his boxer-briefs. Sam finally dares to turn around and his brother is fully dressed, albeit with sex hair and looking utterly ridiculous in his other version’s clothes. He probably doesn’t look much better debauched in the ugly yellow polo, but god, Dean’s wearing _suspenders_. If everything wasn’t so damn twisted he’d be savoring this moment, would plan on buying Dean a pair of bright pink ones. (An unbidden image comes of Dean in lacy pink suspenders and matching panties and _fuck_ that’s not what he meant.)

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Dean says, not meeting his eyes. 

Sam doesn’t push it, definitely needs a bottle of whiskey if they’re gonna attempt to talk about any of this. And Sam’s just hoping they can move past this, for once it might even be better not to think about it if he can persuade his brain to behave. He can already hear Dean saying it didn’t count, it wasn’t them as if the memories are somehow not his. 

They’re taking the elevator down alone, practically a parody of before- just the two of them and an awkward silence. Not that awkward can adequately capture the feeling of ‘just accidentally fucked my brother and we’re stuck in the world’s slowest elevator with such shitty music that begs you to talk over it’- but Sam’s pretty sure normal people don’t have to label that feeling, that no word exists for it. And then the unthinkable happens, Dean purposefully catching his eye. 

He shoots him an almost amused look, “You know this is all your fault, Mr. I have dreams about you.” 

Sam’s mouth falls open, “Are you kidding me? They were _memories_! Of our real life!” 

Dean shrugs, “Whatever, I always knew you were the bitch.” 

His traitorous mind flashes back to Dean on top of him, hot and sweaty crooning, _demanding little bitch_ , and fuck he can’t get hard right now. He’s not going to lose Dean over this, he refuses to. 

“Whatever,” Sam mimics, tacking on a belated, "jerk." A grin flashes over Dean’s face, and Sam feels sick, unclean. 

They hit the first floor with a loud ding, and Dean says, “Let’s go find Baby and a normal case. There’s gotta be something nearby to gank.” 

It feels too easy, but with everything they’ve gone through, maybe sex really wasn’t such a big deal. ...to _him_. It seems so obvious suddenly, Sam’s stomach turning inside-out at the realization. It doesn’t matter to Dean because Dean’s always been the blessedly normal one. He didn’t like it like Sam did, not after or in that moment of realization. He isn’t sick or twisted, wasn’t raised with demon blood in his veins. He was just disgusted like any one else would be with what happened, didn’t need to stress or think on it. Probably didn’t _want_ to think on it. Wasn’t- 

“Sammy?” 

“Yeah, sounds good.” 

Dean has an incredulous eyebrow raised- his tone must not have been very convincing. But then he spots her: outside in the elements, clearly unmoved for the past few weeks. 

“Oh Baby, you poor thing. I can’t believe that feathered dick left you all alone out here…” 

Sam can’t help a fond smile as his brother checks over every inch of his car, mumbling angelic blasphemy all the while. Sam pulls his bag out of the backseat; the sooner he’s out of the damned polo, the sooner Sandover can feel like someone else’s life. 

(He intends to throw it out. He does. He intends to do a lot of things.)

((He doesn’t.))


End file.
